Three-Kick Rule

A big city Alberta lawyer went duck hunting in rural Saskatchewan.

He shot and dropped a bird, but it fell into a farmer's field on the other side of a fence.  As the lawyer climbed over the fence, an elderly farmer drove up on his tractor and asked him what he was doing.  The litigator responded, "I shot a duck and it fell into this field, and now I'm going to retrieve it."
The old farmer replied, "This is my property, and you are not coming over here."

The indignant lawyer said, "I am one of the best trial attorneys in Canada and, if you don't let me get that duck, I'll sue you and take everything you own."

The old farmer smiled and said, "Apparently, you don't know how we do things in Saskatchewan.  We settle small disagreements like this with the "Saskatchewan Three-Kick Rule."
The lawyer asked, "What is the Saskatchewan Three-Kick Rule?"

The Farmer replied, "Well, first I kick you three times and then you kick me three times, and so on, back and forth, until someone gives up."

The attorney quickly thought about the proposed contest and decided that he could easily take the old codger.  He agreed to abide by the local custom.

The old farmer slowly climbed down from the tractor and walked up to the city feller.  His first kick planted the toe of his heavy work boot into the lawyer's groin and dropped him to his knees.  His second kick nearly wiped the man's nose off his face.  The barrister was flat on his belly when the farmer's third kick to a kidney nearly caused him to give up.

The lawyer summoned every bit of his will and managed to get to his feet and said, "Okay, you old coot!  Now, it's my turn!"

The old farmer smiled and said, "Naw, I give up. You can have the duck!"

Prairie Fire

Some people try to punish themselves for their sins. They do not stand on the promises of forgiveness and Christ's propitiation.

"Many years ago, a father and his daughter were walking through the grass on the Canadian prairie. In the distance, they saw a prairie fire, and they realized that it would soon engulf them.

The father knew there was only one way of escape: They would quickly begin a fire right where they were and burn a large patch of grass. When the huge fire drew near, they then would stand on the section that had already burned.

When the flames did approach them, the girl was terrified but her father assured her, 'The flames can't get to us. We are standing where the fire has already been.'"

- Erwin Lutzer, Failure, The Back Door to Success.

The Bubbles Are Always Right

I learned that when a diver was deep under water, he could lose all sense of direction. He becomes weightless-no sense of gravity-and swimming without a natural source of light causes him to become disoriented and swim sideways, thinking that he is rising to the top. 

In fact, a diver can become so convinced that his perception is correct that he continues to swim in the wrong direction until he eventually runs out of air and drowns. My friend then said that the only way to keep this from happening is to follow the direction of your air bubbles. "No matter how you feel, or what your brain may tell you," he said, "the bubbles are always right." 

The world today is like a group of scuba divers: disoriented and void of direction. Absolutely convinced that their perception of right and wrong is correct, they ignore the warnings, while the bubbles of truth tell them otherwise. Instead, they willfully folloew the directions of other disoriented expert divers who say, "Live like this . . . believe like this . . . think this way . . . go that way"-and all the while their tanks are running out of oxygen.

The Word of God has been given to us that we may have direction for living. As Christians, we have no excuse for moving through life disoriented; the verses in Scripture are like the air bubbles from a diver—they show the way up.

Make sure you’re swimming in the right direction . . . just follow the “bubbles”! 

 

Stephen Davey

She Does Not Know Me

It was a busy morning, approximately 8:30 am, when an elderly gentleman in his 80's, arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb. He stated that he was in a hurry as he had an appointment at 9:00 am.

I took his vital signs and had him take a seat, knowing it would be over an hour before someone would to able to see him. I saw him looking at his watch and decided, since I was not busy with another patient, I would evaluate his wound.

On exam it was well healed, so I talked to one of the doctors, got the needed supplies to remove his sutures and redress his wound.

While taking care of his wound, we began to engage in conversation. I asked him if he had a doctor's appointment this morning, as he was in such a hurry.

The gentleman told me no, that he needed to go to the nursing home to eat breakfast with his wife.

I then inquired as to her health. He told me that she had been there for a while and that she was a victim of Alzheimer's Disease.

As we talked, and I finished dressing his wound, I asked if she would be worried if he was a bit late.

He replied that she no longer knew who he was, that she had not recognized him in five years now.

I was surprised, and asked him. "And you still go every morning, even though she doesn't know who you are?"

He smiled as he patted my hand and said, "She doesn't know me, but I still know who she is."

I had to hold back tears as he left, I had goose bumps on my arm, and thought, "That is the kind of love I want in my life."

True love is neither physical, nor romantic. True love is an acceptance of all that is, has been, will be, and will not be.

I'm Fine!

Farmer Joe decided his injuries from the accident were serious enough to take the trucking company (responsible for the accident) to court. In court, the trucking company’s fancy lawyer was questioning farmer Joe. "Didn’t you say, at the scene of the accident, ’I’m fine’?," questioned the lawyer.

Farmer Joe responded, "Well I’ll tell you what happened. I had just loaded my favorite mule Bessie into the..."

"I didn’t ask for any details," the lawyer interrupted, "just answer the question. Did you not say, at the scene of the accident, ’I’m fine’!"

Farmer Joe said, "Well I had just got Bessie into the trailer and I was driving down the road..."
The lawyer interrupted again and said, "Judge, I am trying to establish the fact that, at the scene of the accident, this man told the Highway Patrolman on the scene that he was just fine. Now several weeks after the accident he is trying to sue my client. I believe he is a fraud. Please tell him to simply answer the question."

By this time the Judge was fairly interested in Farmer Joe’s answer and said to the lawyer, "I’d like to hear what he has to say about his favorite mule Bessie."

Joe thanked the Judge and proceeded, "Well as I was saying, I had just loaded Bessie, my favorite mule, into the trailer and was driving her down the highway when this huge semi-truck and trailer ran the stop sign and smacked my truck right in the side. 

I was thrown into one ditch and Bessie was thrown into the other. I was hurting real bad and didn’t want to move. However, I could hear ole Bessie moaning and groaning. I knew she was in terrible shape just by her groans. Shortly after the accident a Highway Patrolman came on the scene. He could hear Bessie moaning and groaning so he went over to her. After he looked at her he took out his gun and shot her between the eyes. Then the Patrolman came across the road with his gun in his hand and looked at me. He said, "Your mule was in such bad shape I had to shoot her. How are you feeling?"

It was then that I said, "I’m fine."

Fixing Bicycles

I love stories. One of my favorites is about a little girl who was late coming home for supper. Her mother made the expected irate parent's demand to know where she had been.

The little girl replied that she had stopped to help Janie, whose bicycle was broken in a fall.

"But you don't know anything about fixing bicycles," her mother responded.

"I know that," the girl said. "I just stopped to help her cry."

Not many of us know anything about fixing bicycles, either. And when our friends have fallen and broken, not their bicycles but their lives, NONE of us knows how to fix that. We simply cannot "fix" someone else's life, even though that's what we would like most to do.

But like the little girl, we can stop to help them cry. That is the best we can do. And that is a lot!
- Murray Lancaster

Would You Remarry?

A wife asks her husband, "Honey, if I died, would you remarry?"

"After a considerable period of grieving, I guess I would. We all need companionship."

"If I died and you remarried," the wife asks, "would she live in this house?"

"We've spent a lot of money getting this house just the way we want it. I'm not going to get rid of my house. I guess she would."

"If I died and you remarried, and she lived in this house," the wife asks, "would she sleep in our bed?"

"Well, the bed is brand new, and it cost us $2,000. It's going to last a long time, so I guess she would."

"If I died and you remarried, and she lived in this house and slept in our bed, would she use my golf clubs?"...

"Oh, no," the husband replies. "She's left-handed."

Keeper of the Spring

The late Peter Marshall was an eloquent speaker and for several years served as the chaplain of the US Senate. He used to love to tell the story of the "Keeper of the Spring," a quiet forest dweller who lived high above an Austrian village along the eastern slope of the Alps.

The old gentleman had been hired many years earlier by a young town councilman to clear away the debris from the pools of water up in the mountain crevices that fed the lovely spring flowing through their town. With faithful, silent regularity, he patrolled the hills, removed the leaves and branches, and wiped away the silt that would otherwise have choked and contaminated the fresh flow of water. The village soon became a popular attraction for vacationers. Graceful swans floated along the crystal clear spring, the mill wheels of various businesses located near the water turned day and night, farmlands were naturally irrigated, and the view from restaurants was picturesque beyond description.

Years passed. One evening the town council met for its semiannual meeting. As they reviewed the budget, one man's eye caught the salary figure being paid the obscure keeper of the spring. Said the keeper of the purse, "Who is the old man? Why do we keep him on year after year? No one ever sees him. For all we know, the strange ranger of the hills is doing us no good. He isn't necessary any longer." By a unanimous vote, they dispensed with the old man's services.

For several weeks, nothing changed.

By early autumn, the trees began to shed their leaves. Small branches snapped off and fell into the pools, hindering the rushing flow of sparkling water. One afternoon someone noticed a slight yellowish-brown tint in the spring. A few days later, the water was much darker. Within another week, a slimy film covered sections of the water along the banks, and a foul odor was soon detected. The mill wheels moved more slowly, some finally ground to a halt. Swans left, as did the tourists. Clammy fingers of disease and sickness reached deeply into the village.

Quickly, the embarrassed council called a special meeting. Realizing their gross error in judgment, they rehired the old keeper of the spring, and within a few weeks, the veritable river of life began to clear up. The wheels started to turn, and new life returned to the hamlet in the Alps.

Charles R. Swindoll

Are there leaves of anger, twigs of resentment, or silt of unforgiveness clogging your spring of living water? Just as little by little the stream became clogged and contaminated by debris, so our spirits can become obstructed by the *small sins* of day-to-day living. Let's keep the water clean and flowing.

Cannibal Canoe

A Frenchman, an Englishman, and a New Yorker are captured by cannibals.


The chief cannibal comes to them and says, "The bad news is that now that we've caught you, we're going to kill you, put you in a pot, cook you, eat you, and then use your skins to build a canoe. The good news is that you get to choose how you die."


The Frenchman says, "I take zee sword."


The chief gives him a sword, he says, "Vive la France!" and runs himself through.


The Englishman says, "Right--a pistol for me, please."


The chief gives him a pistol, he points it at himself, says, "God save the queen!" and shoots.


The New Yorker says, "Gimme a fork."


The chief is puzzled, but he shrugs and gives him a fork. The New Yorker takes the fork and starts jabbing himself all over the stomach, the sides, the chest, everywhere. There's blood gushing out all over; it's horrible!


The chief is appalled, and asks, "What in the world are you doing?"


The New Yorker says, "So much for your stupid canoe!"